


probably definitely something more

by ongjeolmi



Category: Wanna One (Band)
Genre: Forgive Me, How Do I Tag This, I have no idea what I'm doing, M/M, Ongniel, POV Second Person, it's just ongniel, no names, pure unadulterated ongniel
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-08
Updated: 2018-02-08
Packaged: 2019-03-15 13:04:45
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,204
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13613964
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ongjeolmi/pseuds/ongjeolmi
Summary: You could never admit this to anyone, but the kiss you shared was better than those you had with your ex-girlfriends.





	probably definitely something more

You’ve never quite worked out what it was that was between the both of you. When you saw him for the first time popping to That’s What I Like, you admired him as a dancer and as a pretty face, the type of face you always wanted to have. When you were chosen into the same group for the team battle, you gave up the center position to him with a pang of regret, but you admitted that he fit the song image much better than you ever would. Teaming again for Get Ugly was a bit of a surprise, but you had fun hanging out with him and goofing off in the practice rooms. The boys thought you laughed at everything, but they were wrong; you found that he was hilarious in all the right ways that stuck with you.

You’re not sure when it started, when things started to change. Somewhere along the way you discovered his little quirks, and you caught yourself looking out for them all the time. Did it start there? Maybe it was when you formed a habit of catching his eye in the mirror during dance practices, and he’d return you half smiles worn out from dancing. But you liked his open-mouthed smiles the best, the ones he’d make right before bursting into peals of laughter. You also liked making him laugh, but that wasn’t quite often. He smiled a lot, but laughter was rare.

Fans started shipping you with him in earnest after that episode of Get Ugly. Things just happened, as the anxiety took control you sought comfort from the person closest to you. You’d never say it aloud, but him holding your hand made you a little less nervous, and even though your heart dropped at your ranking the feeling of his hand in yours kept you grounded enough to squeeze out a smile for the camera.

Afterwards you moped alone in the vocal training room, thinking defeating thoughts about how you were not cut out to be an idol and how you shouldn’t have joined the programme in the first place and if it was too late to back out but then he’d slipped into the room. He’d settled in right next to you, shoulder-to-shoulder and offered you gummies. You liked that he didn’t say anything, like he understood that sometimes words were lacking, and unnecessary, and what you needed was familiar, silent company.

Later that night when everyone was asleep in the dorm room you read from social media that the ship name fans had given the both of you was spreading like fire. You tried saying it out aloud, and it had rolled off your tongue so easy. Maybe for every night after that you whispered the name to yourself before sleep, as a prayer for making your debut together. If there was a something more, it had started from here.

You had wished you could’ve repaid him in some way for that day, but maybe you shouldn’t have wished that, because the tables turned for the concept evaluation stage and he ended up right at the bottom of his team for the ranking while you’d risen in a way you never expected. You had found him later, lying on his back in the practice room with a pensive expression. You’d wanted to give him your energy drink, but he said something about having to meet the staff about his individual interview and left the room. You had wondered why it was so easy for him to be there for you, but so hard for you to be there for him. Maybe it was from that point onward that you wanted to learn how to be by his side.

The truth was, it all began from the time his name was called for the fifth place, and he’d wormed his way out from the group hug to throw himself into your waiting arms. Everything had felt so right at that moment you wanted to never let go. You had watched him go up to the main stage and your own legs were shaking like his voice was trembling as he rushed over his speech and you could feel the excitement and happiness bubbling out of him. As he took his place on the chair you locked gazes with him and he smiled so wide, the open-mouthed smile you liked best, and you decided this was the best moment of the night.

At the after-party it felt like you were floating. Everything was a blur of tears and thank-yous and hugs and the heady feeling of knowing you were going to debut as an actual idol. You were accosted right and left for pictures but all you wanted to do was find him and get shitfaced drunk and celebrate your debut together. He had found you first though, literally running right into you as you turned a corner. Grabbing your wrist, he had sneaked you off into some corner with his secret stash of beer and soju. You’d discovered that night alcohol made him a lot more talkative than he normally would be. He had gone on and on about how fearful he’d been standing there wondering if his was ever going to be called. Then his company was announced first and he’d proclaimed loudly to you that he’d never been more thankful to hear his company name and he would stay on in that company forever and ever.

You can’t remember many things from that night, but even nine months later, this moment still burns in your memory. Maybe you’d already fallen much earlier, because you don’t (you can’t) say stop when he puts his beer can down and reaches for you instead, his hands tangling in your hair and his forehead against yours. The best thing about tonight, he had told you while laughing a little, sending warm puffs of air against your face, was that he got to debut with you. Then he’d leaned in even closer and you saw his constellation of moles clearer than you had ever. When your lips met it was soft and sweet and you’d never imagined this happening before but it felt so right, like the hug, like this was meant to happen from the start.

You could never admit this to anyone, but the kiss you shared was better than the ones you had with your ex-girlfriends.

Funnily enough, nothing quite changes after that for a short while. The both of you never mention it again when you meet, and it was surprisingly easy to fall back into your old dynamics like nothing ever happened. You shift into new dorms, the group debuts, and things go on. You adjust to your new life as a wildly popular idol, South Korea’s favourite and you’d like to say you’re coping, but it’s not that easy. Nothing’s ever as easy as it seems, and on some days you miss being a trainee when everything was much simpler.

You suppose it’s a kind of blessing when the both of you choose the same dorm room because his presence is comforting, something you let yourself get used to. He still keeps you grounded like he did back then, and there’s a sense of relief whenever you see him assume his role of the moodmaker like he did back on the survival show. Your schedules are insane, with the day starting at 6am and ending at 2am, because the younger ones get the toilets first and by the time you and the older members hit the shower you’re all already dead on your feet. Most of the time you shower half-asleep and your hair never dries before you fall into bed. A few weeks of this same routine and tempers run high within the group due to no one’s fault, except maybe their company who leeches them dry. So he takes it upon himself to maintain a cheerful atmosphere in the group throughout the day with jokes and witty comments. It works well, but you can’t imagine the toll it must be taking on him and you wonder how long he can last keeping this up. 

The breakdown comes at the end of another of their long days. He’d offered to shower last, again, as he seemed to do more often these days. You lie in bed hearing the other members banging their room doors shut and shortly after the lights in your own room go out. You wait for the familiar click of the door and the shuffling of covers on the top bunk opposite yours but it never comes. The bedside clock reads 4am.

Then you’re slipping out the door and feeling your way around in the dark, because it’s 4am and he never comes to bed later than 3. You find him sitting on the bathroom floor with his clothes on, the rain shower pelting him from above. He looks up at you then, a faint smile ghosting his lips, and he looks so cold, so small, so empty and how did you not notice it at all?

You rush over to turn off the shower and you’re holding his face in your hands and rubbing your thumbs over his cheeks murmuring oh no oh no let’s get you dry and into bed it’s 4am we have schedules at 6 the next morning what are you doing but he reaches up to grip your shoulder. He says your name once in a way you’ve never heard before, and the raw sound starts a tingle somewhere along your lower back. He’s looking at you so intensely and you’re not quite sure what happened your hands are still on his face but your back is against the tiles and he’s pushing so close.

You’d like to think he started it but the truth is never how you want it to be, is it? The second time both of you are sober, but maybe you’re drunk off something more potent. He doesn’t seem to want to stop, and you let him, because this is the only way you know how to offer him comfort (the only real comfort you can find). When you break apart you catch his reflection in the mirror; his eyes are something dark and when you turn your attention to yourself, it’s like he gave you a bit of himself too.

This falls into a sort of a routine, of quick touches in the waiting rooms and stolen kisses backstage, sloppy blowjobs in the toilet cubicles. You see his eyes brighten slowly over time, and his wrists are no longer scarily thin like they used to be. Your eye bags aren’t disappearing any time soon, but at least each day doesn’t feel like going through the motions. Whatever this is, it’s saving the both of you. The other members don’t know anything, but even they can point out the changes, and you smile secret smiles to yourself. Reality isn’t that fleeting, you find when he crawls into your bed at night and you feel his steady breathing against your neck, it really isn’t, when he slips his hand into yours at the back of the van, your existence is something solid, when you’re under him and gasping his name as he pounds into you again and again.

You’re still not sure what it is between the both of you, because you’re supposed to like girls and you do like girls but somehow they never quite match up to him. He’s got a smile that could light up the whole city and eyes with the entire galaxy in them. You don’t know when it started, but somewhere along the way he became the world to you.

In less than a year’s time when the group disbands this all will end, and you’ll say a last goodbye and everything will become a little less right. You’ll go your separate ways; he’ll become the actor he always wanted to be, and you’ll continue dancing and singing your days away. Maybe in the distant future he could meet a girl group member and they’ll date and get married in the whirlwind way he does things, and you could find your first love from high school again and start a family.

Or maybe one day when the both of you are brave enough you could call him up and you could fall back into easy conversation with him. You’ll find the old spark, only now it’s less of a burn and more of a mellow stirring, something deep moving in your chest. Maybe you could take his hand again, this time in front of everyone, and he’ll let his friends and family know you’re the one person he wants to be with.

For now though because you are both young and careless you’ll love in the reckless way youths do, open-mouthed smiles mixed up in kisses, your hands down his pants with the real world far away from you. For now there is time to love languorously, and he’ll keep you grounded for as long as you need, and you’ll keep running back to him like a dash to the finish line, because loving him is like coming home.

 

 

 

 

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> so um. ongniel has the honor of appearing in my first ever completed fic since i started writing years ago. the flow is kinda weird, kinda bad but i hope you still enjoyed reading it a little bit. i will love it if you could leave me some reviews!


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